


Ever Green

by EA_Lakambini



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Giving, Gifts, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27938612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EA_Lakambini/pseuds/EA_Lakambini
Summary: It's time to decorate the Christmas tree - and Aziraphale learns something new about Crowley.Written for the Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76
Collections: Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020





	Ever Green

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: something red, something green, and something sparkly.
> 
> Many thanks to [Raechem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raechem/pseuds/Raechem) and to [burnttongueontea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnttongueontea/pseuds/burnttongueontea) for the beta. All mistakes are mine.

_“We shall see the world come true; we shall have the world._   
_I won’t be afraid with you; we shall have the world._   
_You’ll hold my hand, and know you’re not alone._   
_You shall have the world to keep._   
_Such a lovely world, you’ll weep._   
_We shall have the world forever, for our own.”_

_\- “Take Me to the World”, from “Evening Primrose” by Stephen Sondheim_

*~*~*~*~*

“Straighten _up_ , you _pitiful_ excuse of a Christmas tree! How can the angel hang anything on such droopy branches like what you’ve got?”

What Aziraphale had intended to be a relaxing time, decorating a carefully acquired pine, was soon devolving into a shouting match between tree and demon.

“Crowley, the poor thing’s already doing its best, and… really, look at the branches! How green and lush they are!” Aziraphale admonished, while carefully hanging the last string of sparkly gold tinsel on the branches of the tree. It had been something that the two of them had started doing the year after Armaggedon’t - Aziraphale had immersed himself in all of the delightful little holiday traditions, with Crowley mostly tolerant and along for the ride. The tree’s location alternated between Soho bookshop and Mayfair flat, and this year it was in the demon’s plant room.

(The tree did not look delighted about this.) 

Aziraphale gave a loving stroke to the smooth needles; the plant seemed to preen under his touch, slightly extending its branches to look prettier. Crowley groaned.

Crowley pushed Aziraphale’s hand away from the plant gently but firmly. “Angel, every time you visit the flat, you spoil them absolutely rotten, and you only get worse during the holidays,” he groused. “That pine tree can hardly be called lush, the poinsettia is disappointingly dull, and the holly next to it is just _deplorable,_ ” the demon continued with a pointed glare at the plants in question. Aziraphale saw the holly quivering, as it tried to better show off its green foliage and bright red berries. The poinsettia wasn’t faring much better, its scarlet leaves spread out tensely, and almost flinching as Crowley stalked past it.

“Now, my dear, that just isn’t fair,” Aziraphale tutted. He lifted some shiny Christmas baubles out of the box at his feet and began to add them to the branches. He began a pattern of red, green, gold, and blue, alternating the ornaments between the sparkly tinsel. Crowley pulled similar decorations out of the box and started hanging them on the branches as well, but willy-nilly and with no sequence to the colors.

Aziraphale sighed, and switched the ornaments Crowley had added, putting them in the correct order. “Crowley, there’s a system that I’m decorating with here, and you are messing it up. I know you’ve made it a point to thwart me before, but I had hoped the tree would be spared of this,” he said teasingly. Crowley smirked. “Is it the same system that you have for your books, angel? Meaning, indeterminable to anyone living or dead or immortal?” he asked, laughing as he added another row of ornaments, looping the tinsel round the glimmering balls.

Aziraphale shook his head, reaching over to untangle the tinsel before they completely smothered the ornaments. Crowley pouted at him. “Angel, just because this is my style doesn’t mean the tree won’t look good. Besides, they all look the same, anyway.” 

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked, running a careful finger over the smooth surface of the baubles. These were some of his special favorites from his collection, blown glass with hand-painted designs, some with added beads and delicate filigree. Certainly each one was unique. 

“I mean, they’re all the same color. To me, anyway. Snake eyes, remember?” Crowley replied distractedly, bent over the box to dig out the horribly tangled fairy lights.

“Wait a moment. So that’s how all things have _always_ looked to you?” Aziraphale couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. Because, certainly, he’d noticed how minimalist and dark Crowley’s flat was, and how the demon had always worn black, but he had always attributed that to Crowley’s overall aesthetic. It wasn’t one that Aziraphale favored, but Crowley had always looked good in it (in most things, really).

“Yeah, always. It’s not really an issue; most colors just look a lot like each other. Like, those are brown, and these are always just green-ish,” Crowley shrugged, waving a hand vaguely towards his plants.

“And you can’t change it?”

“Yup; part of the whole being-a-snake thing, you know? My eyes always look like this, and they always _see_ like this, too,” Crowley replied, his head down, seemingly focused on untangling the string of lights. “I can’t change them; I tried, demonic miracles and all, but this is really the way my eyes are. I’m sorry, angel,” he continued, something heavier creeping into his voice, and _oh,_ Aziraphale’s heart ached for him. The idea that Crowley felt he had to change some part of himself for Aziraphale.

“It’s not an issue to me either, my dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling gently at the demon while gently pulling on the fairy lights to ease them free from the complicated knots. Crowley smiled back, with a bit of uncertainty at first, but gradually a more genuine smile as he continued the sequence of decorations on the tree branches, following Aziraphale’s lead.

The rest of the evening passed amicably, with Crowley – as always – being the one to place the star on top of the tree. He always had a gentle way of balancing the topper just so (and was the taller of the two, so he could reach it far more easily). Aziraphale clapped his hands in delight as Crowley finally plugged in the fairy lights, and the tree twinkled beautifully against the darkness of the plant room. The only things missing were the gifts under the tree, and Aziraphale made a note to himself to remedy that before tomorrow night.

*~*~*~*~*

The next evening, Christmas Eve, Aziraphale insisted on giving his Christmas gift first. Crowley picked up the small box from under the tree - “of course I know which one came from you, Aziraphale, you’re the only one who would use wrapping paper like this” - and returned to sit cross-legged in front of the angel.

“Aziraphale, not everything has to be in tartan,” Crowley said teasingly as he began to pick at the wrapping paper, carefully peeling at every little strip of tape. “Hush now, and just open it, would you?” Aziraphale pouted, folding his hands together to keep himself from just snapping the wrapping paper away in his excitement.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Crowley had removed the last layers of wrapping paper and tissue, and lifted the lid of the small box to find a pair of sunglasses: matte black frames with dark lenses, gently laid in folds of soft white cloth. He examined them curiously, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at the demon’s curious expression.

“Well, thanks for the gift, Angel. But… did you really think I didn’t have enough sunglasses?” Crowley asked, a bit of a laugh coloring his voice. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen the glove compartment of your car, my dear,” he replied. “I’m well aware you have quite the collection, but won’t you try these too? I think they’d look quite sharp on you, maybe even better than the ones you’ve got now.”

Crowley raised a skeptical eyebrow, but gamely took off his sunglasses and set them aside. “Well, you got the black frames right, angel, so that’s a start; I think this will match just fine – “ and Aziraphale bit back a retort as Crowley finally put the new sunglasses on.

Crowley’s hands began to shake as they held the frames, pushing them closer to his face. He pulled the glasses down and then up again, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

_“Angel.”_

Aziraphale couldn’t hide his smile any longer. He plucked a sprig of holly from the nearby plant box, and held it out to Crowley, who touched the red berries nestled between the green leaves with slightly trembling fingers.

And then an almost shaky whisper. “Oh, _Aziraphale._ It’s… oh, that’s _red,_ isn’t it?” Crowley asked, his voice laced with wonder. Aziraphale nodded. The demon raised the plant closer to his face, the leaves nearly touching the tip of his nose. “How… how did you do this?”

“I didn’t do anything but purchase these; the humans thought it up themselves,” Aziraphale answered with a hint of pride. “I know you said you’ve tried to fix it before,” he continued. “But I figured, these human inventions don’t count as miracles, do they?”

“You really are so, so clever, angel,” Crowley murmured, his smile growing wider as he stood up to walk around the room in a slow circle, stopping now and then to stare more closely at a particular plant. When he returned, he suddenly frowned at the discarded wrapping paper at Aziraphale’s feet. 

“Oh, what in _heaven_ – so the wrapper wasn’t like your usual tartan?”

“It’s red and green plaid, my dear, but close enough,” Aziraphale replied, smiling as Crowley smoothed out the previously crumpled wrapper, fingers following the lines of dark green against bright red squares. He then lifted his head suddenly, and turned around to take in the rest of the view from the balcony window, and Aziraphale could envision what the demon could see, because it was what _he_ could see, could finally _share_ as well: twinkling lights of red and green and blue in the windows of adjacent flats, streaks of violet across an increasingly dark evening sky, and from there the falling of soft white snow to gently blanket a colorfully living world.

A world that was theirs.

Crowley walked slowly to stand in front of the Christmas tree that they had decorated so carefully just the day before. Aziraphale watched him touch the ornaments, one after the other, in the pattern they had laid out. _Red, green, gold, blue._ Long slender fingers reaching up to touch the star on top. _Sparkling brightly for me, and now for you, too._

Aziraphale reached over and took Crowley’s hand between both of his. “See, isn’t it beautiful?” he asked. Crowley slowly turned to face him, and Aziraphale nearly dropped his hand in surprise, because there were now _tears_ on the demon’s face.

Crowley _never_ cried. At least, in all of more than six thousand years of knowing the demon, Aziraphale had never seen him cry.

“My dear, are you all right?” Aziraphale exclaimed in alarm, quickly moving closer and cupping Crowley’s cheek. “Oh, Crowley, please don’t cry, you don’t need to use it if it’s too much, there’s nothing wrong with you – “

Crowley reached up quickly to hold Aziraphale’s hand against his face, using his other hand to pull down the glasses. The demon’s eyes were fully golden, sparkling with unshed tears, and Aziraphale had never seen anything more lovely.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” Crowley finally spoke. “But I have always found _you_ beautiful, angel. Even if I were completely blind, still I would find you beautiful,” he continued, his voice so full of love, a wobbly smile appearing across his face, and Aziraphale really couldn’t stand it anymore; he pressed a soft kiss to that lovely smile. 

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into an embrace, and Aziraphale sighed happily. He would have been quite content to welcome midnight with just the warmth and the silence, but Crowley wasn’t done speaking. “Because only you would think, would care enough, to give this new world to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for dropping by!


End file.
